


The Spirit of Radio

by for_t2



Series: PoI: Rushverse [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Music, Nerdiness, Radio, Resistance, Spies & Secret Agents, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Taking down an illegal radio broadcast was supposed to have been an easy mission for Decima Agent Shaw - it wasn't supposed to turn into a fight for the end of the world
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: PoI: Rushverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1108395
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	The Spirit of Radio

The static coming through the car’s radio was greyer than the clouds above, and Shaw’s thermos was almost out of coffee.

“Come on…”

The timing had to be just right. If she went in too soon, her mark wouldn’t be distracted by the chattering airwaves. If she went in too late, the radio would carry the sound of the strike across country and globe.

“Come on…”

It’s why Decima, security wing of the Samaritan Corporation, defender of the United American Institutions, trusted her with assignments like this. As indelicate a person as she was, Shaw’s trigger finger was swift, brutal, and above all, invariably lethal.

“Come—”

Shaw grabbed her gun the moment the airwaves crackled, the moment the static morphed into patterns. Into music.

*

“…and now, to start off tonight’s show…”

Decima had been tracking the annoyingly sing-song voice across the continent for months. Smuggling illegal music in illegal languages, broadcasting it across illegal airwaves with illegal equipment, without a single license, a single cent in fees, a single stamp of approval, was a serious enough act of sedition in and of itself.

And the more Decima tried to find that voice, the more it escaped them. The more serious the sedition got. The more the delicate balance that kept order alive and the economy growing frayed. A threat on its own is just a threat. A threat that can’t be caught, that can inspire, is an existential threat.

“…from the sunny beaches of Antananarivo…”

And, even if Shaw knew better than to get personally involved with a mission, the mark’s voice was really really annoying. Not just disturbingly perky, but condescendingly self-involved and just a little dangerously unhinged.

“…I think is going to be one of my favourites.”

The voice echoed through the apartment as Shaw silently pushed her way in. As Shaw raised her gun.

“Enjoy!”

Shaw stopped her finger just before the trigger fired. All the radio equipment was there, the broadcast was under way, music crackling through the clouds, but the mark was-- 

Shaw felt the taser before she heard the footstep behind her.

And by the time she woke back up, by the time she wriggled out of her knots, the morning sun was already well above the horizon. And the mark was gone.

* 

“I want everything.”

Hersh stared back at Shaw with small, unblinking eyes and a superbly passive face.

“Everything.” Shaw slammed her fist into the wall to make her point. “All the files, all the photos, everything you have on her. Everything!”

“Agent Shaw,” her immediate boss (who had his own bosses in turn had their own bosses and all the deliberately murky way up to the boards of Samaritan Corp) and former teacher sighed. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

What was not wise was tasering Shaw. Which is why nobody had ever dared to try it before. “You’ve always told me to get a hobby.”

* 

The rain bounced off the payphone as Shaw clicked it back into place. The night’s show had finally started, at a predictably unpredictable time. And Shaw knew exactly where it was.

She counted her ammo, loaded her guns, and set off through the cold autumn rain, through the puddles pooling on the side of road, and set off towards the library.

* 

Not even the dust on the old bookshelves shivered as Shaw made her way up the cracked stone stairs and through the creaky metal gates between each corridor.

And it shouldn’t’ve, because Shaw knew damn well how to do her job.

So when she saw her mark slumped back in a threadworn old office chair, eyes glinting just beyond the shadows, and a gun pointing right at Shaw, maybe Shaw shivered (just a little).

“You must be Sameen.”

So when Shaw spotted the second gun aimed towards her, her mind coped the only way it could. “You know, that’s kinda lame.”

“I thought you liked guns.” And maybe it should’ve been a little worrying how much her mark seemed to know about a secret agent (especially since Shaw’s first had been stuffed into the classified folders years ago), but the way the mark’s voice just whined managed to overcome all of that.

“Yeah, but two at once?” Shaw didn’t move to set her own gun down. “Makes you look like a nerd.”

“Oh, Sameen.” The whineness was replaced by something a little more… “You should know enough about me by now to know that I am a nerd.” Flirty. “It is really flattering, by the way.” Incredibly aggravatingly inappropriately flirty. “It’s not every day Samaritan sends someone as cute as you after me.”

“I’m not cute.”

“I guess we’ll just to agree to disagree.”

Shaw pulled the trigger without a moment’s thought. But somehow, by the time the bullet reached the chair, the mark had managed to slip behind Shaw.

“My name’s Root, by the way.” And managed to press a taser to Shaw’s neck. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.

Nobody had ever tased Shaw twice.

* 

Shaw shook the snowflakes out of her hair as she creeped down the hidden passage behind the cracked glass of the vending machine (who’s chocolate bars hadn’t been replaced in decades but somehow still look sorta edible). Her dark hair and dark coat faded into the shadows and stains of the abandoned metro station’s walls.

And yet, by the time she made to the shining computers and radio equipment tucked into the corner of an ancient train carriage, her mark was nowhere to be found.

“For fuck’s sake.”

So Shaw took the opportunity to snoop around a little. She scrolled through the unending green lines of code that she could only assume were an attempt to bore Samaritan’s firewalls to death, poked through the surprisingly tasteful collection of leather jackets and the definitely not tasteful collection of posters who Shaw could only assume had emerged from some underground worldwide association of nerds.

“You know, Sameen,” Shaw hadn’t even noticed her mark – Root – sneak into the carriage. “It’s not nice to steal a girl’s apple.” Or that she had started munching on Root’s pitifully small stash of food.

But she definitely did notice the taser that hit her neck.

And by the time she woke back up and scrambled out from the handcuffs chaining her under the carriage, Root was gone.

“Fuck off.”

*

Shaw could adapt. She could change approaches. So she decided on a new strategy for her little hobby. Instead of targeting the broadcast, she’d target the source. The illicit materials Root was playing around with had to be smuggled in somewhere.

She had explored her possibilities, tried to put herself into the shoes of someone incredibly annoying, and narrowed it all down to the port. Decima’s border guards were good, but they were nothing compared to Decima’s special agents, which probably meant that they were nothing compared to Root.

“Gotcha.”

She allowed herself a smirk as she slipped into the shipping container lined wall to wall with trash, except for a small box full of USBs. Illegal ones. Dangerous ones. Maybe Hersh would give her some time off and a voucher to the secret steakhouse she knew Samaritan’s board dined at (probably). Victory tasted so-- 

Snap.

Something tightened around Shaw’s ankles when she took a step too far.

“Don’t tase me.”

“But Sameen…” Root drawled, hint of an accent Shaw couldn’t quite place just peeking out. “You haven’t seen half the things I can do with this.” Goosebumps absolutely did not rise up on Shaw’s skin as Root traced the taser across her neck.

“Please.” Not again.

The way Root’s eyes lit up was far too electrifying.

* 

“Surely you wouldn’t shoot me here.” Root leaned back against the lockers. “Think of the children.”

As much as Shaw’s fingers twitched around the trigger, she couldn’t bring the gun to fire. Setting up her seditious broadcasts in the basement of a school was bad enough, but setting it up in Gen’s school was crossing a line that Shaw couldn’t cross.

“Now,” Root wrapped her hand around Shaw’s gun. Lowered it. Snaked her other hand towards Shaw’s jacket. “Why don’t we play teacher inst—”

Shaw’s fist met Root’s face with every bit of strength she had.

“Ow.”

“Listen, Root.” Shaw spat out the words as she grabbed Root’s collar. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do much more in the middle of the day. “Next time I see you, I’m going to kill you.” But she could punch Root again. “Painfully.”

When Shaw came back that night (with backup), the school was empty.

* 

Why anyone would choose to hide in the shell of nuclear reactor, Shaw couldn’t fathom, but she had to admit Root’s twisted logic was starting to make some sense (or maybe she was finally driving Shaw nuts).

It was, after all, the last place anybody would think to look.

Unfortunately for Root, Shaw was a woman of her word.

“Shaw, I…”

Root had stated backing away the moment Shaw marched in, not bothering with any secretiveness. And Shaw didn’t need to say anything.

She just let the bang of her gun speak for her.

* 

So, maybe the secret Samaritan steakhouse didn’t exist (or, at least, not according to Hersh’s glare), but Shaw still thought she deserved a treat after everything Root had put her through.

And apparently Hersh was please enough (even his expression didn’t show it) to give her a day off.

So she cooked up the best steak she could find and settled in for a good night’s rest. Hell, she might even wake up at 6:30 instead of 6 if she really felt like sleeping in. Root was off to wherever Decima sent its public enemies, and there nothing that could make Shaw happier. She deserved the luxury of a bit of indulgence.

What she didn’t deserve, however, was to be woken up in the middle of the night by a taser.

* 

Shaw groaned as her head rose up off the steering wheel. She groaned again at the zip ties keeping her hands stuck to it. “How?”

“You didn’t really think you could keep me locked up forever?” Root smirked with a voice that was far too smug for breakfast. “At least, not if I don’t want to.” It was also too early for terrible attempts at winking.

“I shot you.”

“And it hurt.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Root gave her another smirk, a little less smug this time. “I looked it up. The school.” Did Root get a kick out of winding Shaw up? “I didn’t your foster sister went there.” Probably. “I’m sure I can find a way to apologise.” Definitely.

“I’m still going to shoot you.”

Root just sighed. “I don’t get you, Sameen Shaw.”

“I get that a lot.” Shaw had gotten that her entire life, and frankly, she got sick of it. One of the benefits to joining Decima had been that people stopped giving her that speech and just handed her a gun and let her do her thing instead. It just worked better for everyone.

“You come from a family of refugees. You’re a medical doctor.” Shaw slumped her head back down on the wheel and steadied herself for Root to recite her life history to her (which was really supposed to classified). “You say you don’t care about people, but you’d do anything for Gen. You’ve self-diagnosed as a sociopath, but you’ve got a moral streak that would make Jesus blush.”

This time, Shaw thought she recognised the slight accent. American. Southern. Rural.

“So, Shaw, tell me.” Root leaned against the dashboard. “How can someone like you be happy working for a fascist regime?”

As much as Shaw rolled her eyes, there might just’ve been a part of her somewhere that agreed.

“Especially after they killed your partner.”

Shaw’s head snapped up. “What?”

Root smiled (in all her unhinged glory) and brandished a knife. “Leap of faith.”

Shaw blinked as Root did maybe the stupidest thing imaginable and cut Shaw’s zip ties. It only her took her a split second before she had Root slammed against the door, her fingers pressing down on Root’s neck.

And for a moment, Shaw was very, very tempted to squeeze. “What did you mean about Cole?”

* 

“Northern Lights, huh?”

“Hmm,” Root hummed in agreement as she fiddled with the umbrella in her glass. “Information is hard to come by, but whatever it is, it seems big. And Cole was starting to have his suspicions.”

Shaw fiddled with Root’s USB. With the hard-to-come-by information. “Why?” When Root raised an eyebrow at her, Shaw rolled her eyes. “Why you? Why are you doing this?” The unspoken question: what’s in it for you?

“I have my reasons,” Root shrugged cryptically.

“Does it have anything to do with the Bishop Murders?” Shaw grinned as Root tensed. “Maybe I’m not the radio hacker whatever you’ve got going on, but I’m guessing there’s a lot of unsolved cases in Decima’s archives that I could trace back to you.”

For a moment, Shaw thought Root was about to jump up and march away. But for whatever reason, she didn’t. “Even before Samaritan’s coup, people like don’t last long in a place like that.” Root shut her eyes, and for a second she looked like a little girl all alone in the world. “I… I had someone who…” Just a second before looking like someone who would enjoy taking the world to hell. “I stopped a long time ago. And I don’t regret it, if that’s what you want to know.”

“My job is to take care of terrorists, but…” The way Shaw’s stomach stirred the scarier Root looked was not a good sign. “I don’t think a lot of serial killers end up as hackers masquerading as underground radio DJs.”

Root snorted. “I take it very seriously.” Root took a long, melodramatic sip from her drink. “Democracy dies with thunderous applause.” When Shaw’s face stayed the same, she added, “It’s a line from one of the movies you wouldn’t watch because they’re illegal. And nerdy.”

“I have good taste in films.” Shaw felt forced to defend herself even it was pretty obvious Root wasn’t listening.

“But it’s right. People cheered for Samaritan before it took over, people cheered when the government sold the country to it, people cheered for it with every step it took towards our glorious fascist misery. People cheer, Sameen.” Root pushed her drink away. “The whole world, from every little baby to every grand system, it’s all just bad code all the way down. And the code always just gets worse. Always.”

Shaw had a feeling that if she said the wrong thing, she’d be just the first person Root slaughtered tonight. “You play music. It makes people think they can fight.”

And Shaw definitely didn’t like the intimate intensity of the way Root stared right at her, as if the whole wide world were nothing but vulnerable. “I guess sometimes I just see something that looks like good code.”

*

The first thing Shaw noticed when she snuck under the barbed wire surrounding the factory was the odd absence of guards. The second was the scars of a trail of destruction when she slipped through the factory walls. The third was that the pattern in the scars seemed familiar. The fourth were that the scars were still fresh.

“Reese?”

The last thing she was expecting to find in her extra-curricular aurora chasing was a colleague who was supposed to have been killed in a terrorist missile strike years ago. “Shaw?”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

Reese glanced to both sides uncertainly. “Surprise?”

*

“Am I not allowed to relax every once in a while?”

Shaw narrowed her eyes at the figure sitting on the park bench in her park. “No.”

“Really, Sameen.” Root scooted over to one side of the bench. “Radio shows don’t write themselves. And unless you have any ideas for any exciting vacations I could take…”

Shaw rolled her eyes, but sat down next to her anyways. Her intelligence had, amazingly enough, proved useful. “You need to learn how to flirt.”

“Ow.” Root’s expression was more amused than anything.

“So, how’s your… relaxing going?” Shaw just hoped Root knew how to communicate in subtle code.

“Tell me Decima.” Root’s expression switched to something more distant, more lost in the clouds. “You spend so much time spying on us through your machines, do you ever wonder if there’s anything staring back?” When Shaw didn’t say anything, Root’s expression snapped right back to that amusement. ”Apple?”

Despite her best instincts, Shaw took the apple. Bite down on it. When Root didn’t say anything else, she took another bite. And another. And another, until there was nothing left but the core. “Stop thinking so loudly.”

“If you want to distract me—”

“Shut up.”

* 

The more the bullets flew around them, the more Shaw remembered why she had always liked going on missions with Reese. “We should do this more often.”

“My partner wouldn’t agree.”

“Now, is that partner like business partner or…”

Reese was not amused. “Finch is a very private person.”

“Wait.” But catching Shaw off guard was enough to make him smile just a little bit. “Finch as in Harold Finch? The dead business guy?” Reese nodded. “Who else is actually alive that I need to know about?” Reese shrugged. “You’re really helpful.”

“I try.”

“So, let me guess.” Shaw took a quick moment to reload her gun. “Samaritan didn’t like the way Thornhill was headed.” Both the main owners of Thornhill had disappeared following a ferry incident that Shaw was increasingly thinking looked sketchy. “Or maybe they liked it too much.”

“Something like that.”

Sometimes Reese could be annoyingly cryptic. “You know, I think I’ve got a…” Shaw wasn’t sure what the right word was. “I think I’ve got a partner you should meet.”

* 

“Where’s Hersh?”

For a split second, Shaw’s heart sped up as the possibility her hobby might’ve been discovered. Especially with the way the woman standing behind his desk smiled. “Agent Shaw, you can call me Control.”

“Control?” As in, Hersch’s boss? As in, the person every Decima agent knew about, but had never actually met?

“That’s right.” Control set a file down on the desk. “Samaritan has a special assignment for you.”

* 

“Sam?” Root’s eyes went wide when Shaw staggered into her latest broadcasting hideout, a not-too shabby room in what had to be one of the more expensive hotels in town. All the more shame that Shaw was dripping blood all over it.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying it is that you’re always right?” Shaw lowered herself into a chair before she could collapse. “Please tell me you know how to bandage a gunshot?”

“I…”

“Fuck, I’ll tell you, just hurry up.” At least Root quickly shut down her broadcast and hurried over to Shaw’s side. “And Root?” Shaw gritted her teeth as she tore a strip off her shirt. “Northern Lights. I think we’re trouble.”

*

If Shaw was leaning on Root as they approached the underside of the bridge, it was entirely because her injury still wasn’t healed. It was entirely for practical purposes. Entirely platonic. Yet, for some reason, she didn’t bother leaning away as Reese came into sight.

“You.” The smaller, way way nerdier looking guy next to Reese gasped as he saw them. And as he took a step behind Reese, his face when dead white.

“Harry!” Root looked way too cheerful at the sight of who Shaw assumed was Finch.

“You two know each other?” Reese glanced between them. Glanced at Shaw. Shaw just shrugged.

“She’s a very dangerous—”

“I guess I should probably apologise.” Root interrupted Finch’s squeak before most of the words even left his mouth. “But I’m reformed now. Moved on to better things. I swear.” After a second, her grin turned a little evil. “Mostly.”

“Wait.” Reese frowned, looking over Root again. “Root as in Underground Music Root? The radio station?” Both Shaw and Finch immediately turned to him. “What? She has good taste in music.”

Root positively beamed.

“I can’t believe I’m surrounded by nerds.” Nobody dared point out that, as the holder of a full-fledged medical degree, Shaw was probably the most qualified nerd of them all. “So, Northern Lights. Samaritan.” She waited until their attention was well and truly focused. Shaw wasn’t usually a great team player, but maybe just this once, she could make an exception. “What are we going to do about it?”


End file.
